


Meanwhile in Markarth

by ComeAsYouAre



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-23 08:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2541188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComeAsYouAre/pseuds/ComeAsYouAre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Markarth guards realize they probably shouldn't mess with someone who routinely murders everyone that has tried to go after them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nope

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Skyrim Kink Meme
> 
> Prompt: http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4580.html?thread=9400804#t9400804  
> Story: http://skyrimkinkmeme.livejournal.com/4580.html?thread=9411812#t9411812
> 
> Standard Disclaimers Apply

Bjarni stood at the top of the steps to the Markarth barracks, watching another guard perform the all-too-familiar shuffling walk of a man sentenced to death. It seemed to be a hallmark of the senior city guards, but the extra heaviness in his step meant that something had happened. Probably nothing good.

He took a harder look at his fellow guardsman, and saw exactly what had happened: this poor sod was the new Captain of the guard.

The doors behind him opened and out came - what was his name? - the end of his shift.

The new guard spoke without ceremony, “Hey. You can go, now.”

Bjarni looked at the man askance- not that the other man could tell under the helmet. “So much for the formalities,” he said dryly.

The new guard shrugged. “Like it really matters. Who’s been around long enough for anyone to care?”

Bjarni nodded at their new captain, “He might.”

“Doubt it. He looks as though he might drop dead any moment.”

“Might be praying he does.” The new voice startled the first and second guards. That was bad. They’d probably end up stabbed in the back if they didn’t learn to be more careful.

“Sorry! The name’s Einar.”

“Bjarni.”

“Alrik.” _So_ that’s _what his relief’s name was…_

“So,” Einar began, “What do you think he’ll try first, to assert his authority?”

“Probably make it so the rotation of duty favors his friends,” said Alrik.

Einar didn’t look too sure, “Does he _have_ any friends?”

The three of them froze. The question came uncomfortably close to home.

Bjarni frowned. “After the Forsworn Conspiracy? I doubt it.”

“I thought the Dragonborn had taken care of that.”

Bjarni stared at the boy, and Alrik chuckled darkly, “You could say that. You could also say the Dragonborn took care of everyone else there, too.” 

“What do you mean?” Gods! This Einar fellow had no idea what he’d signed up for…

“You haven’t heard?” Alrik was incredulous, “The Dragonborn killed the jailbreakers, their king, and the whole conspiracy in one day.”

“And that’s not a good thing?” The boy asked.

“Not when you consider that some of the senior guards at the time put him there as part of it.”

The boy blanched. “You mean he was part of the plot?”

Alrik sighed and cuffed Einar on the shoulder. “No, you dolt, some of the guards that involved him in it.”

The boy put a hand up to hold the offended shoulder. “Why in Oblivion would they do that?”

“Because they were corrupt, you idiot.”

Bjarni knew at that moment that both he and Alrik were calculating the length of the junior guard’s lifespan. It got shorter the more he talked.

After a moment, the boy started up again. “Well, it’s good they’re gone, then. We can’t have men like that, here.”

Alrik tried and failed to put his hand on his head. He’d apparently been so exasperated that he’d forgotten about the helmet, somehow. “Some may have wanted to, but those that didn’t were probably forced.”

“By who?”

“If you don’t know already, then you’re either daft or lucky.”

Bjarni stepped in before the boy could voice offense, “Well, they’re having trouble convincing _anyone_ these days.”

Einar perked up, “What happened?”

Bjarni and Alrik shared a look. Helmets or no, there were some things that experienced men just _knew._

No use dancing around the subject.

“The Dragonborn.”

There. They’d said it.

“What about the Dragonborn?”

The three of them jumped at the new voice. Bjarni turned and saw that the new Guard Captain had finally made it up the steps. He promptly saluted her as he eyed her new Captain’s sash with fear; the thing was considered bad luck.

“Captain Janikke.”

She waved the gesture off. “Gods! Don’t remind me.”

“We thought you were a man!” Einar exclaimed.

“Show some respect, you idiot!” Alrik smacked the boy on the back of his helmet. It wouldn’t get through to the boy’s skull, but it was the thought that counted.

“We were just explaining the situation to the lad.” Bjarni offered.

“You mean about the Dragonborn?” she sighed.

“They were going to,” the the boy said helpfully, “but I don’t really get the big deal.”

“That’s because there isn’t much to get.” Janikke said flatly.

“So…”

The captain sighed. “Not too long ago, the Dragonborn killed all the Forsworn conspirators and their associates. That includes the Forsworn _and_ the corrupt guards. Ever since then, the Dragonborn has taken exception to anyone who’d think to frame or obstruct the Dragonborn in any way. _Especially_ guards.”

“But we were just doing our jobs!” The boy exclaimed.

“What part of ‘framed’ do you not understand, boy?” Alrik sounded torn between incredulity and exasperation.

“And there was harassment before that, too.” The captain added.

Bjarni didn’t know about that part. “Really? Gods! The Dragonborn must think we’re _all_ part of it.”

“You don’t say.” The woman said dryly. “I’d have thought that was clear from the number of recruitment drives we’ve had ever since.”

“But I signed up yesterday. Surely the Dragonborn couldn’t think I’m part of it!”

“Einar, I’m not sure the Dragonborn can tell the difference between all of our uniforms.” Janikke sounded strained.

“Especially since we’ve been reduced to recovering old uniforms.” Alrik’s distaste was obvious.

“You mean someone _died_ in our uniforms?!” For once, Einar was understandably perplexed.

“With the amount of money we’ve been spending to constantly train new recruits, we’ve had to take some cost-cutting measures.” The captain informed him.

Bjarni tried to reassure the boy. “Don’t worry so much; when you prove yourself, you can petition for a new one of your own.”

“If he lives that long…” Alrik muttered.

Janikke reprimanded him, but offered no reassurances of her own. She’d been through enough to know not to get attached to the ones who probably weren’t going to make it.

“Speak of the Daedra…” Alrik whispered.

The four of them turned to the city gates, where the Dragonborn had just arrived.

Janikke groaned, “Oh just _perfect!_ How much worse can my first day as captain, be?”

“Did Jarl Igmund tell you to, uh… do something about it?” Bjarni asked.

“You mean the Dragonborn?” She laughed bitterly, “I’m not stupid enough to try. I haven’t lasted this long in the guard for nothing.”

“So you’re not going to fine him for littering?”

Three helmeted heads turned to Einar.

“Not I.” Jannike snorted.

“Me neither.” Alrik seconded.

“Nope.” Bjarni backed up.

“But he just did! And whatever it was looks disgusting!” The boy looked perplexed.

“Look, if you go down there, I take no responsibility for what happens to you.” And with that Janikke turned and entered the barracks.

Einar stared dumbly at her exit before trying again. “You really don’t think we should stop him?”

“You’re more than welcome to try.” Alrik laughed, “It’s our duty, isn’t it?”

“Alrik, don’t encourage him.” Bjarni groaned. He had no interest in seeing another new blood die on the job.

“But he’s disrespecting our city…” the boy said weakly.

Bjarni tried a different tactic. “Not sure the Dragonborn will appreciate being called a man.”

“What do you mean? Is the Dragonborn a girl?” Einar was confused.

Alrik burst out laughing. “If the Dragonborn isn’t, I’m sure he’d take exception to that, too.”

“You mean nobody knows?”

“Nobody living, that is.” The Alrik snickered.

The boy blanched, and shook his head, “But someone should _do_ something…”

Bjarni sighed and took the boy’s shoulder and steered him towards the barracks. “Einar, just let it go.”


	2. Optimism

The boy had not been joking when he had said that “it” was “disgusting”. Even so, Alrik did not consider it vile enough to do anything about… at least until the Dragonborn had left the area.

Unfortunately, one of the recruits posted by the city gates had not gotten the notice.

Alrik had a great view of the entire incident below. It was as frightfully simple as any matter with the Dragonborn went:

1) The Dragonborn had thrown down something in front of Hogni Red-Arm’s meat stall.  
2) Words were exchanged between said vendor and the Dragonborn.  
3) ~~Idiot~~ recruit had confronted the Dragonborn about littering.  
4) The Dragonborn dealt with said recruit.  
5) The aforementioned recruit was no longer fit for duty.

Captain Janikke did not appreciate the levity with which he had delivered his report.

“Alrik!” She snapped irritably, “Show some respect for the dead.”

“Sorry, Captain,” he didn’t bother hiding the grin on his face, “It’s not every day one gets to see a man fly.”

Bjarni looked up from his mead, “What do you mean, ‘fly’?”

“Exactly what I said.” Alrik responded cheerfully. “If it weren’t for the landing, I’d have envied his flight over the first balcony.”

Bjarni winced, and Einar looked torn between fear and curiosity.

“Alrik!” Janikke reprimanded him again, “You could at least _pretend_ to show some respect for the dead!”

“Aye, lad,” another voice cut in, “Show some respect for the most dubious entrance to Sovngarde I’ve ever heard yet!”

Several faces turned to the speaker, while Janikke groaned and slumped in her seat. “Not you, too, Oskar…”

The old man shrugged. “If it’s any comfort lass, he’s the most memorable loss in recent memory.”

The captain’s helm tipped in such a way that strongly suggested that she was glaring. “And yesterday’s wasn’t?”

Oskar shrugged again, “I suppose falling over the edge of a waterfall is impressive. But if you consider that it was a drop and not a ground to air launch… I’d say that was cheating.”

“Am I his replacement?” Einar asked feebly.

“Not directly,” Everyone could hear the smile in Alrik’s voice, “But you could go for a new record and be his successor in death.”

Now Bjarni was scandalized, “Alrik!”

“Alright, alright,” He held up his hands, “Don’t worry, Einar. We didn’t give you that guard’s armour. Couldn’t actually.” He shuddered at the memory. “So we found you someone else’s.”

“You know whose armor I’m wearing?” The boy was alarmed.

Oskar burst out laughing, “Don’t listen to him, boy. I know every piece of equipment here better than anyone alive.”

“Do _you_ know?” Einar pressed.

“Aye, that I do, lad…” The old man nodded gravely.

A dead silence came over the barracks. Janikke was fairly certain that Oskar was joking, but one never did know for sure when it came to the veteran. He’d survived the Great War and the Markarth Incident, and had the scars to prove it. As it stood, he was the oldest serving member of the Markarth City Guards, so the odds of him knowing the distinct patterns of wear and tear inflicted by various users weren’t bad.

On the other hand, the man was incorrigible.

“I know the lad who last wore that armour never had a woman, so you don’t have to worry about the sort of mess he might have left be-”

“Oskar!” Bjarni cut in, trying to spare the boy certain imagery.

“What?” The old man leered, “You know there are women that love the uniform.”

That peaked the boy’s interest. “Really?”

“It’s not always the uniform,” Alrik jumped in, “Sometimes it’s about the man that wears it.”

“And what would you know about that?” Oskar raised a feathery brow in question.

“Only that the ladies like a certain man _out_ of uniform.” The younger man sounded smug even under his helmeted head..

“Oh? Is _that_ what Hroki took offense to?” The old man rejoined, “The uniform?”

Alrik hesitated. “Well…”

Bjarni tried not to laugh too much, “It might have had something to do with what he said.”

The impending explanation was cut off by two guards entering the barracks. The smaller one fussed with ill-fitting gauntlets as the bigger one shut the golden doors behind them.

“Magny! Leifr! How goes?”

“Hey. What news?” Magny, the shorter of the two arrivals, asked bluntly.

“You almost missed the fun.” Oskar smiled. “Alrik here, was just trying to explain why Hroki slapped him.”

“Another one?” Magny removed her helm, her copper hair still strictly in its bun. She brushed at a sweaty wisp, “What are you, daft?”

“I’m sure he has his reasons.” Leifr’s voice rumbled behind her.

“Thank you, Leifr!” Alrik perked up.

Magny rolled her eyes, “His reasons are stupid.”

“She has you there, my friend.” Bjarni smiled apologetically. Oskar laughed.

“Stupid perhaps, but it’s hardly my fault that you women are so lovely!”

Magny stared at him. “I suppose that blow to your face did more damage than we thought.”

Alrik protested, “Nothing terrible I assure you. In fact I think the scar makes me look manly!”

The girl made a disgusted noise, “Manly? I tell you about ‘manly’. _Manly_ is going out and hunting for daedra hearts simply because you felt like it.”

Janikke groaned, “Don’t tell me someone is summoning daedra in this city!”

“Not at all,” Leifr responded, “The Dragonborn was gracious enough to bring daedra hearts to Moth gro-Bagol when asked.”

“With a detour to Hogni for a laugh.” Magny added.

“That wasn’t in your report.” The captain’s eyes focused on Alrik.

“Not my fault I was guarding the tower and too far to hear much!”

“There wasn’t much to hear, really. Just two lunatics and red meat.” Magny replied.

“What’s so funny about meat?” Einar asked.

Bjarni sighed, “Hogni’s always going on about having ‘the bloodiest beef in the Reach’. I figure the Dragonborn wanted to have a laugh about that.”

“Just about.” Leifr nodded, “Apparently along the lines of, ‘How’s that for bloody?’ “

Alrik shook himself. “Wait. That thing was _fresh?”_

Everyone froze.

The captain swore violently and seized a bottle of mead from a table. She then found a chair and sat heavily.

“Captain,” Bjarni spoke up careful, “I’m not sure you want to be drinking on the job.”

“Oh yes, I do…” She pulled off her helmet, her brown, shoulder length hair escaping the simple tie at her neck. The captain did nothing to straighten out her locks and stared ahead with weary, sunken eyes. “We’re going to have an inspection by our new Thane.”

Alrik managed to choke out the thought in all their minds amid bouts of laughter. “Captain Janikke, with all due respect, you _do_ realize that we’ve already lost that battle. No amount of straightening up is going to get this sorry lot past inspection.”

“I don’t care.” The captain responded dully, “We’re going to do it, or die trying.”

Einar piped up. “What do you mean, ‘die trying’?”

The woman said nothing, and uncorked her bottle of mead.

“Captain…” Bjarni asked with trepidation, “Who is the new Thane?”

Janikke responded by drinking heavily.

Alrik stopped laughing immediately, “It couldn’t possibly be the Dragonborn… could it?”

The captain drained the bottle before slamming it down on the table. Oskar whistled, impressed. “I take it back. ‘Death by inspection’ is now the strangest path to Sovngarde I’ve ever heard of.”

The impending doom was lost on the boy. “We get to work with the Dragonborn?” Einar whispered in awe.

“Yes, Einar.” Alrik slumped in exasperation, “We get to work with the Dragonborn to a particular _end.”_

“And what end is that?”

Oskar stared at the boy. “Where did you find this one, captain?”

“I didn’t.” Janikke said flatly.

“You mean you seriously volunteered, boy?” The old man stared at him.

“It’s good practice for when I become an adventurer!” The boy said defensively.

“You’re going to need a lot of practice…” Bjarni was impressed by the pained expression on the veteran’s face.

“I will!” The boy insisted. He got up and headed to the exit. “You’ll see! I’m going to-”

Einar was interrupted by the doors to the barracks opening. He straightened up and spun around, only to see a female, dark-haired Nord warrior standing just to the side of the door. She was holding it open.

“What is it?” The boy asked eagerly. “Trouble?”

The doorway was suddenly filled with a looming shadow of a warrior clad in head to toe in fearsome Daedric armour.

The boy froze to the spot.

Several moments passed.

“Sir,” the woman began, “You may wish to mo-”

**_FUS_ **


End file.
